Of Messes and Monopoly
by ArtsySkat
Summary: Oneshot in which Craig and Clyde play Monopoly, but Clyde makes a mess, which is a problem for germaphobe, Craig. Cryde, rated T for swearing.


Craig sat on his living room floor across from his best friend, Clyde. An old, worn-in Monopoly board covered in red houses and green hotels lay between them. "Clyde, it's your turn," Craig said in a monotone voice, his chin rested on his hands. He didn't really like Monopoly. He never had, mainly because he was completely _shit_ at it.

Clyde looked up from the cheap taco he was currently devouring like it was the last taco in existence. "Oh- sorry bro," he said as he leaned over the board to roll the dice. In the process, he dribbled a significant amount of taco sauce right in the center of the board. And he ignored it. Craig blinked, watching him ignore the unnaturally red-orange splotch on the board. Clyde finished his turn and looked back at the TV screen that played the _Red Racer_ episode they'd seen a million times since it aired so many years ago in the fourth grade. He just left it there. Didn't even glance at it.

"Dude," Craig started, staring at the tiny pool of sauce, "Seriously," he questioned. (Note: Craig always states his questions. Nobody knows why. Probably comes with the nasal voice or something.)

"What?" Clyde asked innocently. The brunette looked down to where Craig stared, down at the board. "Oh, shit, sorry bro, I landed on your hotel," shrugged Clyde, reaching for his rumpled stack of monopoly money. Craig immediately snatched the other boy's wrist, quickly moving it over to point at the sauce spill. Craig met Clyde's eyes and frowned, intensely glaring to make his point.

It was as if Clyde didn't understand that there wasn't _supposed _to be on sauce on the board. Finally, Craig saw the light bulb go off in Clyde's dumb little head. "OOOOOHHH, sorry bro! My bad. I'll get that," Clyde smacked his forehead and proceeded to take one finger to wipe up the taco sauce and lick it off of his finger with zero hesitation. Craig openly cringed.

"Augh! Clyde! That's fucking nasty!" the tall boy yelled, scooting backward on the floor until his back pressed against the tacky faux leather couch.

Clyde laughed at his "best bro" and inched closer, grinning, "What, Craigie? You scared by a little mess?"

Craig flipped off the smaller boy, "No," he lied. Clyde laughed again, this time putting his left index finger (the one that he used to wipe the evil sauce with) right in front of Craig's nose, not quite touching him, but close enough to really piss him off.

Jumping up on the couch, Craig held out his middle finger as though it was a powerful shield. He blinked at Clyde, sputtering, "Jesus Christ, Clyde! Wash your fucking mouth out! Who knows what's been on that board!" By this point Craig had made it to the very top of the couch. His overreaction only encouraged Clyde to keep going, because to him, this was just hilarious. Craig could tell because Clyde was just smiling like an idiot. Craig's eyes were wide and his lips curled in absolute disgust. Clyde kept his finger exactly where it was, and moved even closer. Craig panicked, and in one swift movement, screamed and fell clean off the back of the couch. At the same time, Craig managed to kick Clyde backwards with his awkwardly long legs.

The two boys lay on the floor, on opposite sides of the couch. Craig rolled over onto his stomach, clutching at his head. He'd probably have bruises tomorrow, and his hat had fallen off. _Dammit_, he thought. Amidst all of his groans, Craig heard his best friend burst into obscenely loud laughter. He rolled back over onto his sore back and saw Clyde standing there, looking down at him, the brown-haired, football-playing, taco-loving, tubby bastard

"You should have," Clyde paused for breath and more loud guffaws, "seen your," another breath, "face!" he finished, pointing at Craig and bursting into another laughing fit. That pissed Craig off to no end. The tall raven-haired boy lunged at his friend, yelling strands of obscenities as he went. Craig pinned his wrists down to the ground, straddling the smaller boy. Craig leaned in really close to Clyde's face and whispered, "You. Are. So. Fucking. Gross." Before Craig could say anything else, Clyde leaned his neck forward a little, looked into Craig's blue-grey eyes, and _licked the tip of his nose_.

"AUGH!" screamed Craig, as he leaped up from the floor, and full-on sprinted for the bathroom upstairs. Once safely inside, he stripped off his t-shirt and jeans and turned on the shower, stepping inside it. He didn't even care that he left on his boxers as he began scrubbing furiously. He heard Clyde come into the room.

"Dude, seriously?" Clyde asked, clearly amused. "Damn, I always knew you were sort of a germaphobe, but goddamn this is ridiculous. I mean," Craig cut Clyde off by reaching out and pulling him into the steamy walk-in shower with him, clothes and all.

"Bro, what the fuck?" Clyde asked, cocking his head to the side like a dog would.

"You're all… _gross_, Clyde." Craig answered simply, pulling off Clyde's clothes, and throwing them over the shower door. He pushed Clyde under the water.

"Craig. Uh. What?"

The two had always been bros. Well, that's how Clyde always put it. Then again, they were always a little more than that. Craig sighed, "Clyde, you've got to stop being so sloppy. Don't lick food off Monopoly boards. Or other objects that aren't plates. It's not worth it man." They looked at each through the fog in the shower. "Also, don't lick my face. That's fucking gross. I don't even _want_ to know where your mouth has been," Craig added, and Clyde blushed a little.

Being the taller of the two, Craig leaned over Clyde and shut off the water. Craig planted a kiss on Clyde's dampened forehead, and stepped out of the shower, heading to his room with a towel. Clyde followed suit, asking no questions. Probably he was too confused to ask anything.

Once they'd dried off, Craig sat down on his bed, and Clyde did the same. Craig was the first to speak. "I like you," he said.

"Well, I like you too," Clyde shrugged, "We're bros."

Craig shook his head, "No, stupid. I mean. Well. Uh," rather than finish his thought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Clyde's.

The kiss was slow and soft, but it felt so _right_. Craig felt his face heat up in the most cliché way possible. He pulled away, feeling a small grin creep onto his face. Clyde grinned back, looking slightly dopey, and muttered, "Oh," he paused, "I, uh, I like you, too." Craig nodded. They shared a silence that was comfortable, unlike most silences.

In a flash, Craig went back to being Craig: nice and boring, in all of his straight-faced glory. "D'you wanna watch Red Racer with me," he asked flatly.

Clyde nodded, "Hell yeah."

Craig got off of the bed and headed downstairs first, while Clyde dawdled behind him, fiddling with his hoodie. All of a sudden, Craig was back in his room. "Goddammit Clyde, go clean up the huge fucking taco mess you left in there. I swear to god." Although Clyde obliged, Craig was sure he heard him laughing his way downstairs.


End file.
